


12 up

by Zormikea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zormikea/pseuds/Zormikea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Yamaguchi, his friendship with Tsukishima is everything. He may not be the coolest, and may not be the smartest, but when Tsukishima shields himself from the rest of the world, he is always there to support him.</p><p>Some things never change, and Yamaguchi’s loyalty is one of them. Should Tsukishima call out to him, he will come back no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome.
> 
> I've been carrying this story in my head for weeks, and now it's here. I really hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.

There are plenty of words in the world to describe an encounter between weak and outnumbering as there are enough to define Yamaguchi’s difference from the bullies in his elementary school - these shouldn’t have anything in common. Yet, when Tsukishima happened to be crossing the park that day and walked into a demonstration of inequality, he somehow managed to unite them all into a single one.

It is difficult to scrub off. Yamaguchi follows the boy for years, admires him, agrees with him, tries to get better at things he seems to be fond of - but nothing does it, and Tsukishima remains harsh and mostly indifferent. For a long time, they’re stuck on “shut up”s and “sorry”s.

The thing that works, surprisingly, is Yamaguchi’s spontaneous attempt to defy Tsukishima’s rules during the summer training camp – or maybe not so spontaneous, who knows - but either way, it is something no one else has ever done before. The act is so strikingly wild and courageous it leaves scratches on Tsukishima’s perfect shield.

The scratches deepen and turn into cracks while Yamaguchi masters his serving skills with an impressive amount of diligence for a player whose last try was a huge letdown. Eventually, both boys make it to the game against Aobajousai, and Yamaguchi lunges forward to bash his doubts into the opponents’ floor together with the ball. It’s his first successful serve, and it is followed by thundering silence.

Then, there is an explosion of shouts - both from their teammates and opponents. Karasuno are amazed, viewers are going crazy, and maybe the rest of the world is a little mad now as well. On instant, Yamaguchi is surrounded by the other players, and he’s grinning like a small kid who’s just got a birthday present he’s been dreaming about for years. Hinata and Nishinoya are so excited they almost jump at him.

A perfect example of calm, Tsukishima is the only one who doesn’t give in to the overwhelming desire to strangle the boy in a whole-hearted mix of limbs. Instead, he looks away, takes a quiet breath and utters:

“It’s really not all that surprising, you know.”

The words are pointy enough to pierce the noisy group, and friendly interactions come to a halt. He can’t see it, but Yamaguchi looks up at him, meeting the eleven on his back with a puzzled expression. Tanaka goes berserk immediately, but before he’s able to start barking nonsense, Tsukishima addresses his friend once again:

“After all,” he adds, “you practiced serving more than anyone else over these past five months.”

The statement doesn’t keep Tanaka from trying to plant a fist into his side, but Yamaguchi’s serves get even better. The team earns another point, and then another one, though this time Tsukishima has to fight in order to ensure it. The fourth serve is as magnificent as the first one, and Aobajousai lets through the fifth. They’re becoming angry by now, and it is as clear as day no one was expecting this.

Unfortunately, miracles end, and six is not Yamaguchi’s number. He manages a good serve, but the ball meets an unwelcome pair of hands on the other side of the net. Iwaizumi sends it back, and although Yamaguchi reaches it, he fails to control it.

“Nice kill!” someone shouts as the ball goes out.

Yamaguchi tumbles down to the floor, defeated, and his chain of serves is done for. Despite the sad outcome, the boy looks delighted enough, and he’s seized into a massive bear hug as soon as he joins the inactive players. Hinata raises a hand, spreads his fingers and shouts something at him happily, and things seem to be fine.

Looking mildly irritated, Tsukishima focuses on the game. Thanks to Yamaguchi, Karasuno has a chance to win the set, and there’s no way he or the rest of the team are letting these hard-earned five points go to waste.

When the game resumes, there’s a lot of spirit floating around Karasuno, and everyone is playing at their maximum power. For a moment it feels like the crows are about to close the game with two wins in a row- however, only for a moment.

Because it’s Oikawa’s turn to serve.

Players on both sides go completely still as Aobajousai’s number one takes his spot on the court and rotates the ball in his firm hold, waiting for the whistle to arrive. When Oikawa hears it, he moves in a flash, jumping up and hitting the ball with enormous force - the serve is so quick it can possibly harm the person who’s brave enough to catch it.

Nishinoya is, and he dashes towards the ball, but his foot slips and sends him into an unsteady flight. The ball gets him in his left shoulder, changes its path and takes off in the direction of the resting players. With a loud thud it collides with Yamaguchi’s temple, and the poor unsuspecting boy loses his balance and falls down to the floor once again. It’s a rather nasty fall, and when he sits up after a few moments, he’s rubbing his head, and there’s a pained expression on his face.

Karasuno is unsure who needs help more: their libero, who’s just made an epic twist in the air and is now struggling to rise to his feet, or their newfound hero. Tsukishima has his priorities settled, so he hurries to Yamaguchi’s side without hesitation.

“Itshf. Okay, I’m okay,” the boy promises with a crooked smile. His eyes aren’t focused. “It was. A good serve, _oww.._. ’m okay...”

Tsukishima watches him with a rapidly forming frown. He’s heard stories and read enough books and articles and is quite smart in general, so it’s no surprise the next thing that leaves his mouth is good advice.

“Go see the nurse.”

“But- I…” Yamaguchi stutters, “I want to-”

“ _Now_ ,” Tsukishima cuts him off. He grabs Yamaguchi’s hands and brings him to his feet as carefully as he can, then shoots a glare towards Ukai who nods in return. The coach glances at Nishinoya to see if he’s in any need of help, but the libero seems to be doing okay.

“Take him to the nurse,” Ukai asks the advisor. Takeda takes gentle hold of Yamaguchi’s elbow, but the boy is reluctant to move, and his eyes dart back to Tsukishima. Their hands are still connected.

“Tsukki…” he tries.

Tsukishima is having none of that.

“Better for you,” he says, tears his hand away and turns to leave.

“Tsukki-” Yamaguchi repeats desperately, but fails to steal more attention. Tsukishima joins the others by the net and concentrates on the game once more.

His stare glues to Oikawa who’s about to serve, and Tsukishima notices uncertainty on the young player’s face. Despite the incident, he’s earned Aobajousai a point, and they may actually win this set and begin the third one. But Tsukishima can see Oikawa’s confidence waver because he didn’t intend to damage anyone with his serves. It is easy to guess from the way Oikawa keeps checking Yamaguchi’s progress towards the exit even though the whistle is about to come. That’s a good sign for Karasuno.

The call is there, and Oikawa flinches. His teammates are watching him, and some of them have the brain to shield their necks and the back of their heads, draining the remains of their captain’s determination with their lack of trust. Normally, Tsukishima would laugh at the display, but not today.

Precious seconds pass, and Oikawa finally gathers himself. He lets out a breath and makes a step towards the jump… only to freeze mid-action. Suddenly, his expression fills with fear, and the ball falls out of his grasp and hits the floor. The dull sound is joined by another one coming from nearby.

From the exit.

Tsukishima spins around like his life depends on it, and the first thing he sees is Yamaguchi’s limp body lying on the floor. The boy isn’t moving. Takeda drops to his knees beside him and checks his condition, and Ukai rushes towards them with a cell phone in his grasp. The air thickens with whispers and shouts as people around them start getting the picture.

“What happened? Is he dead?”

“How many times did he hit his head?”

Tsukishima stays frozen for a good half a minute. After that, he takes a step, takes another one, and then he’s running to Yamaguchi’s side again, and so does Oikawa. Both of them collapse on their knees as soon as they reach the boy.

“Oh God,” Oikawa chokes out. “This can’t be happening…”

Tsukishima is completely silent. He clutches the edge of Yamaguchi’s shirt, eyes wide and lips trembling, and he doesn’t let go until doctors are there and he’s being dragged away from his unconscious friend by force. His grip on the cloth is so tight it takes a while for Ukai to pry his fingers open.

The doctors form a circle around Yamaguchi’s body; there’s an obvious hurry and dozens of words flying back and forth. Tsukishima doesn’t notice when Sugawara presses a palm to his back.

Minutes blur, and words become louder. Voices lose their steadiness, and eventually it dawns upon Karasuno that, for some reason, the doctors are unable to bring Yamaguchi back to his senses.

Somewhere on the court Hinata is crying into Kageyama’s shoulder, and Daichi hides his face from the rest of the team. Lying on the floor, Nishinoya faces the ceiling, and his stare is empty. He doesn’t respond when Asahi and Tanaka try talking to him.

It was supposed to be a good game, but it isn’t - neither for Karasuno, nor for Aobajousai, even though the latter gets the victory. Yamaguchi leaves the building in a coma, and he never wakes up.

When Tsukishima learns about his death, he locks himself in his room and doesn’t come out for a long time.

***

The game between Aobajousai and Shiratorizawa ends so early it’s embarrassing. Tsukishima didn’t bother coming to witness it, but people say that letting Aobajousai’s number one onto the court was the team’s biggest mistake. It’s in the local news the same day it happens, and when Tsukishima walks into the living room, the information starts pouring into his ears like a swarm of bees.

His older brother hears him enter and looks over the back of the couch he’s sitting on.

“You look horrible,” is the first thing he says. His lips press into a thin line as soon as the words are out, and he adds quietly, “sorry.”

Tsukishima hums, looking past him. A familiar face flashes on the screen and reappears after a brief overview of the results: it’s Oikawa, and he’s standing on the court with his chin dropped. Iwaizumi grabs the man’s shoulders and tries to shake him out of whatever stupor he’s in, but the attempt is fruitless.

“This guy has problems,” his brother says. “His serves are all off.”

The camera jumps to the Shiratorizawa players next as they gather and congratulate each other, all of them proud about their recent victory. Their captain is wearing a smirk.

Tsukishima hums again, and that earns him a worried stare. “No, really, eat something at least, alright?”

The question gets a shrug in response. After that Tsukishima proceeds into the bathroom and disappears behind the door, and his brother changes the channel once the news is over. He’s past a weather-forecast and half through a comedy show when the boy emerges, and there’s a fresh smell of shampoo in the air. Tsukishima throws a glance at the TV and heads back to his room.

***

Yamaguchi’s funeral takes place on a rainy day.

The streets are trapped under a heavy net of thunder clouds, and there’s constant noise coming from all the drops that crash against the ground. People hide from the rain in the comfort of their homes and vehicles, and only a few of them are out, shielding themselves from the relentless water that still gets their feet.

Safe in the warmth of his dark room, Tsukishima opens his eyes. He gets up from his bed wearing nothing but his underwear and a plain white t-shirt, and music is flowing into his ears through the headphones. That is why when he leans onto the windowsill, he sees a bright flash outside but doesn’t hear thunder.

Somewhere, they are putting Yamaguchi’s body into the wet dirt, and Tsukishima knows that all of his teammates are there with their wide black umbrellas and numb goodbyes. His parents are mourning, and maybe a few people from Aobajousai found time to come.

Tsukishima stays at home.

For a while he watches the rain, sees someone’s car park by the road and a soaking dog that belongs to no one. With a small sigh, the boy closes the curtains so that nothing comes in anymore and walks back to his bed. His fingertip finds the stop button.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s elementary school, the lesson is over, and Tsukishima closes his heavy math book, perfectly capable of solving every problem he’s expected to. He’s clever like that, and homework has never been challenging enough to busy him for more than a couple of hours. The boy is easily among the best of his class even though he doesn’t cling to anyone else for support - there were days when his classmates addressed him and tried to befriend him, but now these days lie forgotten.

Warm sunlight pierces through the glass and wraps around the boy’s hands. It’s incredibly orange and very gentle, but Tsukishima hardly notices: the books are settled in his bag, and he’s ready to head home.

As he’s about to go, he hears a loud, carefree laughter and doesn’t care to look – must be the result of someone’s silly joke, like it always is. Tsukishima throws a strap over his shoulder while his hands slide into their usual spots inside the front pockets of his jeans, and takes his leave. The laughter multiplies into a bunch of excited shouts.

“Wait!” a familiar voice cuts through. It’s Yamaguchi.

Tsukishima lets out a quiet sigh and ignores it, his indifference a clear indicator that both the voice and its owner are unwanted. Yamaguchi was there when he found out his brother was a liar, so he should be able to get the hint.

The boy doesn’t make it to the door. A small hand catches his sleeve, and the voice struggles to get his attention once again.

“Please, wait!” Yamaguchi repeats.

Tsukishima cringes and turns around to meet the freckled face. There’s something off about it today, and his eyes search for the reason unintentionally until they find a little bruise on the boy’s jaw.

“What,” he grunts a few seconds later, looking up. The words are cold, and combined with his height should be enough to scare off even the bravest of his classmates, yet somehow Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to be so affected. His expression is uncertain, and that’s it. He doesn’t step back.

“Can I go with you-?!” he blurts out, and his stare immediately drops to the floor as if it’s the one he’s asking.

Frown deepening, Tsukishima blinks at him. Processes the offer and its meaning. It’s not just about leaving the classroom together, it’s more than that.

Yamaguchi’s hand darts back to his side and stays there.

“I mean… I’m asking because…” he tries, fingers clenching and unclenching, and he’s so nervous now it’s obvious he’s been thinking about this for a while. “I wanted to-”

“No,” Tsukishima cuts him off calmly.

The answer is sharp.

“-uh…”

It also must have felt like a slap in the face because Yamaguchi stills almost completely: the only part of him that moves is his chest as he takes uneven breaths. Tsukishima doesn’t wait for him to recover and starts walking away.

Unfortunately for him, the boy manages to gather himself before it’s too late.

“W-wait!”

Yamaguchi runs out into the corridor and spots Tsukishima by the stairway. The latter doesn’t look very pleased by the pursuit and thus doesn’t stop walking, but the boy stubbornly proceeds.

“Just once!” he shouts. His feet hit the stairs, and he hops over two steps per jump, doing his best to catch up. He nearly bumps into a fragile blonde girl who’s heading to the second floor; she shrieks, and he mutters an apology.

When the boys get to the lobby, it becomes evident that Yamaguchi is not planning to stop any time soon. Tsukishima finally halts and turns on his heel.

“Stop following me!” he demands angrily. Yamaguchi freezes before him like an obedient servant and bites his lip, swallowing whatever he was going to say. Tsukishima locks their eyes together for a moment to make sure he really gets it, and then exits the building through the large doors. Yamaguchi doesn’t follow.

The next day at school is as colorless as the ones that preceded it. It’s the same routine of reading, writing and answering correctly, and the same sunlight falls on Tsukishima’s hands when he collects his belongings from the table. The same evening waits for him at home, too.

However, as he’s about to leave the classroom, Yamaguchi attempts to slow him down again.

“Wait! Tsukki!” he calls. The sudden nickname rubs the wrong way, makes Tsukishima grit his teeth.

“Do not call me that,” he says, and then notices that Yamaguchi has two bruises now, the second one barely peeking from the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Can I go with you today?” the boy asks. It’s like the first time has never happened, and he ignores Tsukishima’s irritation as well.

“No,” Tsukishima answers. Surprisingly, it’s enough: Yamaguchi lets out a frustrated breath and returns to his desk, and Tsukishima nods to himself - there’s no misunderstanding anymore.

Except everything repeats the next day. Yamaguchi is either dense or insolent; any other person in his place would already stop trying. But there he is, and he’s not backing away.

Tsukishima opens his mouth to refuse when he sees a bunch of boys staring their way. Or, more precisely, they’re staring at Yamaguchi who’s shifting from one foot to another in front of him. There aren’t any new bruises on his skin yet - at least, there are none Tsukishima can see.

It may be that, or the boy might be thinking that Yamaguchi will stop with his offers if he gets what he wants – either way, Tsukishima doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything, actually, simply shares another look with Yamaguchi - a long one. The boy blinks twice, and Tsukishima moves towards the door.

He _doesn’t refuse_.

As fast as it’s possible for a boy of his age, Yamaguchi dashes to his table and throws everything he owns into his bag. After that he rushes out and runs until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Tsukishima again; there’s no “stop following me” and no angry glances this time. Tsukishima doesn’t really acknowledge the boy’s presence, but Yamaguchi smiles contently nonetheless.

There may be regret in the morning. When Tsukishima walks out of his house with a piece of toast still hot in his mouth, the boy and his wide grin meet him right by his doorstep.

“Morning, Tsukki! Let’s walk together!” he chirps.

“I told you not to call me that,” Tsukishima mutters. He doesn’t say anything else, though, and they walk to the school side by side. Gradually, it evolves into a habit.

“Tsukki!”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

The bruises don’t appear anymore.

“Tsukki!”

“Not again.”

“Tsukki!”

Tsukishima growls and turns around. There’s a fresh “shut up” on the tip of his tongue, but as soon as he sees his friend, words tumble back into his throat one after another. Speechless, he stares at the grown boy in the Karasuno uniform with a large, white twelve in the middle of his chest, and Yamaguchi shivers like a leaf that’s about to be disconnected from his sole source of life. His hand twitches desperately as if he wants to grab onto something.

Behind him is nothing but seething darkness.

“Tsukki…” he whispers.

Tsukishima wakes up with a gasp.

“Yamaguchi…!”

He’s alone. Music plays faintly through the headphones, and bright colors spill into the boy’s eyes through the broad window of his room. When he turns his head, he sees the familiar shapes and lines of the furniture.

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks.

Slowly, Tsukishima sits up, and his cold fingers brush against something flat on the blanket. The boy takes it and brings it up – it’s a photograph of him and Yamaguchi, taken when they were attending the elementary school. On it, they’re both sitting on a narrow wooden bench in the same park where they met each other; Tsukishima’s as excited as ever, and Yamaguchi is devouring a strawberry flavored ice-cream, trying to smile for the camera at the same time. This picture has always been their mothers’ favorite because, like they said, _you two look so genuinely happy._

Tsukishima pulls down his headphones, and dozens of sounds from the living room invade his ears on instant. Some of them are more distinct than others, and most belong to the overly loud TV with its shamelessly provocative ads. Ignoring them all, the boy stands up from his bed. His legs are somewhat wobbly as he walks to his table, and there’s an open photo album on it - an album that contains no less than half a hundred of pictures similar to the one he’s holding. His memories.

Carefully, Tsukishima puts the photograph back on its place so it can rest among the others. As he watches them, his hands find the back of his chair. The clutch is so strong his knuckles go white.

***

The rest of the Tsukishima family are gathering for a meal when they hear a loud, muffled noise that sounds like something big crashing against the floor. All of them fall silent simultaneously, and Akiteru almost chokes on a piece of chicken he managed to snatch while no one was watching.

Soon, the sound is joined by others, and it’s not difficult to guess where they’re coming from, especially with everyone but the younger Tsukishima present in the same place. Akiteru rises to his feet and goes to check; it’s doubtful that his younger brother lost it, but he’s not known for being destructive, either.

He’s by the door when it suddenly opens on its own, and Tsukishima emerges with a face that suggests he’s ready to deny everything. He’s calm on the outside, but Akiteru has been living with him far too long to be fooled by that.

“Kei…”he starts, and the boy walks past him without listening. He heads straight to the exit. “Kei, where are you going?”

“Out,” Tsukishima grunts. He puts on his shoes and grabs his keys, and his movements seem a bit too rushed for his usually composed nature.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea-" Akiteru tries to persist, his voice thick with worry. Despite that, the boy doesn’t linger.

“Kei, wait!”

He opens the door, and then he’s out, blending with the evening wind. Music prevents his brother’s calls from reaching him.


	3. Chapter 3

Tsukishima doesn’t have a particular destination on his mind and thus ends up walking around the neighborhood for a good half an hour, firmly avoiding every road that might or might not lead him to the nearest bus stop that would in its turn send him to the quiet walls of the cemetery. It’s been twenty two days since the burial, and he hasn’t visited the grave yet: whenever he’s asked about it, he swiftly changes the subject or brushes off the person who’s curious, his decision depending on who that person is.

In reality, when the boy thinks about doing it – which happens more often as time passes – his throat goes dry and his fingers start to tremble.

The air is cool as it slides over his skin, and there aren’t many people around – at least in the park area where he eventually finds himself observing a small nonfunctioning fountain. After a moment of quiet pondering, he wanders off to get himself some hot coffee from a vending machine and then goes for a lonely bench that overlooks the mostly empty playground. It’s peaceful, and the sun warms his back where it can reach between the wooden planks, but even as the boy sighs and lets himself relax against the backrest, his thoughts refuse to settle down.

At some point a girl walks by, and keeps glancing in his direction the whole time he’s in her field of view. Tsukishima catches that only because he’s alone and bored; Yamaguchi once told him there were a lot of girls like her, and some even had the courage to come up to him and ask if the tall blond was taken. She fidgets under the boy’s unimpressed stare, and his mouth twists in a grim smirk: Yamaguchi was fidgety too when they were going through the first stages of their friendship.

Turns out, the girl isn’t a huge fan of grim smirks, probably because she, like everyone else who doesn’t know Tsukishima very well, finds it too haughty for her taste. She immediately stops paying attention to him, and he doesn’t pay any attention to her either; his fingers curl around the coffee can, twitching, and he stands up abruptly with his head lowered and his eyes shut.

He lets out a long sigh. Then walks off.

This time, the decision is made by some part of Tsukishima’s mind that’s unshakeable, and he approaches the bus stop in rapid steps and with solid determination on his face. The music is long gone from his headphones, he notices – the player is not set to repeat – so he grabs the device and reshuffles the list before tucking it back into his pocket.

The bus takes fifteen minutes to arrive and then half a minute more to park lazily by the sidewalk, opening its doors to let in newcomers before it’s even stopped. Tsukishima promptly gets in and moves through the crowdy part of it towards the end where empty seats outnumber taken; he sits by a large window and props his elbow on the tiny rubber sill, watching the scenery shift as the bus drives off.

It’s not a very long ride, but the tips of his fingers tap the coffee can impatiently by the time he arrives to the cemetery. There’s a massive swarm of dark clouds swimming up above when he gets out, but he doesn’t stop to acknowledge the unpleasant, recent future they’re implying.

Perhaps it’s some sort of a second chance for Tsukishima when it starts pouring like it did when Yamaguchi was being buried, or maybe it’s a mocking punishment that follows the boy’s choice not to attend when he was supposed to – either way, even without an umbrella to shield him from the rain, Tsukishima proceeds to the final resting place of many, walking past visitors who are rushing in all directions to find shelter under the nearest roofs.

He knows exactly where to go despite being here for the first time. His legs carry him through the rows of blank tombstones that belong to people he never knew, the soles of his shoes are diving into wet dirt and blurting wet sounds with every step he takes, and he’s soaked through, he and the cold coffee can he’s still carrying. He doesn’t seem to be concerned by any of this, and doesn’t cease until he’s standing in front of a stone that matters, the one where Yamaguchi’s name is written. He pulls his headphones off, lets in the not so comforting ambience of nature.

From there, it’s nothing but silent observing.

The pouring gets more intense with each passing minute, loud claps of thunder double in frequency, and there’s not a soul around except for a tall boy with an unreadable face who’s standing in the wall of rain before his best friend’s grave. He’s not trying to say anything, or maybe he is, maybe being quiet is his way of talking, his lack of movement the only language he knows. Eventually, he drops his stare to the ground and steps forward, presses his palm to the stone; if he bites his lip or allows his shoulders to shake, no one’s there to witness it.

Minutes later, in the continuous sound of crashing water, he finally utters:

“I’m sorry.”

And then,

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

Tsukishima looks up at the tombstone, and his features are raw pain, but he doesn’t avert his eyes from his friend’s name. He lets Yamaguchi see him for what he is, just like he always did, and in his grief he doesn’t notice the world around him move, doesn’t hear the disturbed shouts of birds, the bellows of the raging wind, or the way the grass twists in agony around the grave.

***

He sneezes an hour later while he’s hanging around the counter in his local fast food joint, waiting for his order to arrive; he’s all sodden and a little shivery, but in a slightly better mood than he was before he came to the cemetery. He may be scolding himself for not bringing an umbrella with him, but what’s done is done, and he’s totally cool and indifferent on the outside, Kei Tsukishima’s fashion, a poker face that could withstand the end of the world without cracking.

He picks up the unrivaled box of French fries and hurries back home before the potential cold has a chance to morph into something more concerning; the joint isn’t very far from his place, so he covers the distance within minutes. The moment he appears on the doorstep, he’s bombarded with questions he mostly ignores, and settles with “I’m fine”, “I’ll go take a shower”, and “I’ll explain it to you later.”

His clothes are so wet he leaves small puddles behind himself, and his mother isn’t awfully happy about that… but she leaves him be.

***

The day is so long and emotionally replete Tsukishima completely forgets about wreaking havoc on his own room. When he enters, he merely stands in the doorway for a while, motionless, and stares at the chaos he created, with the nearly empty box of fries in his hand and a mildly puzzled expression. He frowns, then nods to himself and turns to the table where the photo album lies open and unharmed. His eyes slide over the photos as he’s placing the box down, but they don’t linger there for long.

With a sigh, the boy gets down to cleaning, leaning down and pulling up the chair he smashed against the floor in a fit of rage. His things are all on the floor, some of them broken, and his clothes are residing on every surface – he picks them one by one, folds them and puts them where they belong.

He’s never been so destructive. So loud, or so furious.

His lips press together in a thin, disgusted line as if the memory plasters to him physically, like a second layer of skin, overly prickly – but he doesn’t lose his temper again. Ever so calmly, he brings his room to a presentable state (not to its former glory as some things are beyond repair, but to a good state nonetheless).

It’s already dark outside by the time he’s done, so he finishes the remains of his fries, draws the curtains together and changes into his sleeping clothes. The rest of the house is still up when he’s getting under the covers – he can hear the TV working and his brother chatting eagerly with someone on the phone – but it’s nothing more than a soothing buzz in the background that only helps him drift off. Yamaguchi smiles at Tsukishima from their shared past, and the boy lets the corners of his mouth lift in a ghost of a smile-

Which quickly drops as a sharp jolt of pain flashes through his body, emerging somewhere around his left shoulder blade. Tsukishima bolts upright with a distressed yelp, no sleep in his eyes anymore, and reaches back on instant, feeling the spot where he felt the pain flare up. It’s gone now, there’s just a stinging feeling in his muscles, but he stumbles out of the bed anyway and hurries to the light switch and then to the mirror, tugging off his t-shirt and spinning around to see what’s wrong. Nothing appears to be wrong, however; his shoulder blade looks as healthy as ever, maybe a bit redder than usual, but that’s most likely caused by him rubbing it earlier.

Tsukishima doesn’t have any idea what happened, and he’s alarmed now: random bursts of pain aren’t his thing, he’s always been careful with his health (except for today, but he had a good reason not to care), and he makes a mental note to look it up first thing in the morning. When he turns off the lights and lies back down on the bed, he keeps his eyes open, but the pain he’s expecting to come doesn’t return. Gradually, the still working TV lulls him to sleep.

He feels alright when he wakes up the following morning.


End file.
